The Wicked and the Wondrous Page 10

  “I have no idea,” Matt said. He used his body to gently shepherd her farther back into the room, wanting to close the doors against the fog.

  She turned in his arms and pressed her body close to his for strength and comfort. “My sisters are waiting. Even Libby. It isn’t easy to sustain a channeling for any great length of time.”

  Matt tightened his arms around her, holding her captive, holding her safe. He buried his face against her neck. “I hate this, Kate. You have no idea how much. I want to pack you up and take you far away from this place. I know you’re in danger.”

  “If I don’t do this, Matthew, one of my sisters will try, and they don’t have my voice.” She hugged him hard and slowly pulled away from him.

  Matt allowed her to slip from his arms, taut with fear for her when she stepped onto the deck. He stepped beside her. Close. Protective. Daring the thing to come through him to get to her. Jonas took up a position on her other side. Kate closed her eyes and raised her face to the sky.

  A breeze from the sea fluttered against her face. She felt the cooling touch. She felt the joining of her sisters. All seven, together yet apart. Strength flowed into her, through her. She lifted her arms and knew Hannah stood on the battlement of their ancestral home and simultaneously did the same.

  Matt heard the moaning of the wind. Out on the ocean, the caps on the waves reached high and foamed white. The fog became frenzied, whirling and spinning madly, winding around Kate so that for a moment it obscured Matt’s vision of her. He reached out blindly, instinctively, and yanked her into the protection of his body. “This is bullshit, Kate.” He pressed her face against his chest and wrapped his arms around her head to keep the fog from getting at her.

  Kate didn’t struggle. She didn’t act in any way as if she noticed. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, yet the wind carried it into the bank of mist, and it vibrated through the vapor, taking on a life of its own. Kate remained against him, her eyes closed but her chanting continuing, a gift of harmony and peace, of contentment and solidarity. She called on the elements of the earth. Matt heard that clearly.

  Voices rose on the wind. Seawater leaped in response to the chant, waves rising high, bursting through the fogbank and breaking it into tendrils out over the ocean. The wind howled, gathering strength, rushing at them, bringing the taste of salt and droplets of water to brush over their faces. Thunder crashed, shaking the deck. Still the voices continued, and the tempest built.

  “Hannah.” Jonas said her name softly, slightly awed by the raw power forged and controlled between the sisters.

  Kate took a deep breath and let go. Let go of her sisters and her body and the physical world she lived in to enter the shadow world. Far off, she heard the echo of Hannah’s frightened cry. The world wasn’t silent as one would expect. She never got used to that. There were noises, moans and cries, not quite human, unidentifiable. Static, the sound of a radio not tuned properly. And the terrible howl of the wind endlessly blowing. It was cold and bleak and barren. A world of darkness and despair. She looked around carefully, trying to find the one she was seeking.

  She wasn’t alone. She could feel others watching her. Some were merely curious, others hostile. None were friendly. She was a living being, and they were long gone. Something slithered close to her feet. She felt the touch of something slimy against her arm. Kate took another breath and called out softly. At once she saw it. A terrifying sight. Tall, bare white bones, the skull ghastly with a gaping mouth and empty sockets for eyes. It wasn’t fully formed. A great hole was in the chest cavity. The ribs were missing. It came striding toward her, and she noticed that the skeleton wore old-fashioned boots stuck at the end of the sticklike bones of its legs. She might have laughed had it not been so frightening. The bones rattled as it rushed toward her, deadly purpose in every bone.

  “Kate!” Abigail’s cry echoed Hannah’s and Sarah’s.

  Kate held up her hand to ward the thing off as it reached her.

  Matt felt Kate’s energy crackling in the air around them, a fierce force never wavering, yet her slender body shook with the effort, or maybe with fear, crumbling beneath the strain. Without warning he felt every hair on his body stand up. Kate went sickly pale. Afraid for her, he swept her up into his arms and held her tight against his chest, the only thing he could do to shelter her from the onslaught of the wind and the menace of the fog.

  Kate wrenched herself from the shadow world, opened her eyes, expecting to see Matt. Empty sockets stared back at her. The skull’s mouth gaped wide, the jaw loose, bony fingers wrapping around her throat. She screamed and pulled away, trying to run when there was nowhere to go. The pressure on her throat increased. She choked.

  The wind rose to a howl. Feminine voices became commanding. The bony fingers slid from Kate’s throat. She fell to the ground and stared in horror as the voices of the Drake women forced the skeleton away from her one dragging step at a time. Those pitiless empty eye sockets stared at her with malice. Kate tried to scoot crab-like in the opposite direction, feeling sick as the entity clacked white bones together in a dark, ugly promise of retaliation.

  The wind blew sand into the air, obscuring Kate’s vision. She squeezed her eyes closed tightly against the new assault. At once she felt Matt’s body pressed close to hers. Afraid to look, she lifted her lashes, hands out in front of her for protection. Matt’s reassuring face was there, the planes and angles familiar to her. She buried her face against his throat, felt the warmth of his body leeching some of the icy cold from hers.

  The fog crept back toward the ocean slowly, almost grudgingly, retreating from around the house and deck to the beach, with obvious reluctance. With Kate safely in his arms, Matt stared in horror at the wet sand. Distinct footprints were left behind, as if someone had backed toward the ocean with short, dragging steps, a man’s boots with run-down heels. A cold chill swept down his spine. His gaze went from the prints in the sand to Jonas. “What the hell are we dealing with here?”

  chapter

  7

  As lovers meet beneath mistletoe bright,

  Terror ignites down below them this night.

  MATT STARED DOWN AT KATE’S FACE. SHE LAY in his bed, sound asleep, the signs of exhaustion present even as she slept. She looked more fragile than ever, as if fighting back the entity in the fog had taken most of her spirit and drained all of her strength. The curtains over his sliding glass door were pulled back to allow him a clear view of the ocean. He had always enjoyed the sight and sound of the waves pounding, but now he searched the horizon for signs of the fog. Kate was worn out. He worried that if the entity returned, she wouldn’t have the strength to fight it, even though she’d slept for hours. The day had disappeared, and night had fallen.

  He rubbed his hands over his face to wipe away his own exhaustion. He hadn’t slept the night before, standing watch at Kate’s bedside, and he was feeling the effects. He had stripped her of her clothes and wrapped her in one of his shirts. It was far too big for her and covered every curve. He’d tucked her in his bed and all the while she lay passively, making little effort to do anything but close her eyes. He had the feeling she’d faced something far worse than the fog, but she hadn’t been ready to talk about it with him. Recognizing the signs of exhaustion, he hadn’t pushed her.

  Matt removed his shirt and shoes and socks and stretched out beside her. He had built his home in the hopes of finding a wife when he returned from serving his country, but no matter how many women he had dated, there had been only one woman for him. Kate had been in his dreams from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. He would never forget that moment, driving his father’s truck, his rowdy brothers cranking up the music and laughing happily. He had glanced casually to his right not realizing that his life was about to change forever. Kate was standing in the creek bed with her six sisters, her head thrown back, laughing, her eyes dancing, totally oblivious to his gaze. A jolt of electricity had sizzled through his entire body. In that one moment,
Kate Drake had managed to burn her brand into his very bones, and no other woman would do for him.

  “Matthew?” Her voice was drowsy. Sexy. It poured into his body with the force of a bolt of lightning, heating his blood and bringing every nerve ending alive.

  “I’m here, Katie,” he answered, wrapping his body around hers as he slipped his arm around her waist.

  “Didn’t Sea Haven always seem like home to you? When you were far away, in another country, in danger, didn’t you dream of this place?”

  “I dreamed of you. You were home to me, Kate.” There in the darkness with the ocean pounding outside his bedroom he could admit the truth to her. “You got me through the gunfire, and the ugliness, and it was the thought of you that brought me back to Sea Haven. My family always kept track of you for me.”

  Kate turned her face into his shoulder, snuggling closer to him. “I heard you were doing things that seemed so scary to me. I have such an imagination, and I would wake up in the middle of night picturing you rising up out of the desert sand in your camouflage fatigues with your rifle and enemies all around you. Sometimes the dreams were so vivid I’d actually get sick. I’ve never told that to anyone, not even my sisters. They saw the differences in us and knew we weren’t right for each other.”

  “Kate.” He said her name tenderly. With an aching need in it. “How can you say that? Or even think it? I was made for you. To be with you. I feel it so strongly, the rightness of it. You feel it too. I know you do.” He held her possessively, his arms locking her to him. Matt buried his face in the soft warmth of her neck. “Katie, you can’t hand a man his dream, then take it away. Especially not a man like me. I stood back and gave you all the room in the world when you were too young for me. Later, when you were grown, you were busy and happy with your life, traveling around the world doing what you do. I never once made a move on you. I knew you needed your freedom to pursue your writing. But now you’re home, telling me you’re ready to settle down, and I can’t just step back and pretend we don’t feel anything for one another. Every time you looked at me, you had to know we belonged. You should never have kissed me if you weren’t willing to give a relationship between us a try.”

  Kate closed her eyes, feeling tears welling up. His lips moved over her neck, drifted lower to nudge the collar of the shirt aside. Her pulse pounded frantically. Her heart went into overdrive. “I’m not brave the way you are, Matthew,” she admitted in a small voice. “I can’t be like you. I’m not at all a person of action. In a few months when you realize that, you’ll be so disappointed in me, and you’ll have too much honor to tell me.”

  Matt lifted his head and looked down at her. Tears shimmered in her eyes, and his heart nearly stopped beating in his chest. “What the hell are you talking about, Kate?” He bent his head to kiss the tears away. He tasted grief. Fear. An aching longing. “Dammit.” He muttered the words in sheer frustration, then kissed her hard, his mouth claiming hers. A ravenous hunger burst through him, over him. There was a strange roaring in his head. His chest was tight, his heart pounding with the force of thunder. He had faced enemy fire without flinching, but he couldn’t bear the idea of Kate walking away from him.

  He poured everything he felt into his kiss. Everything he was. His hands framed her face, held her to him while he ravaged her mouth. Heat spread like a wildfire, through him, through her, catching them both on fire until he thought he might ignite. She melted into him, her arms sliding around him, nearly as possessive as he was. He lifted his head to look at her, memorizing every beloved line and angle of her face. He was gentle, his fingertips stroking caresses and tracing her cheekbones, the shape of her eyes, the curve of her eyebrows. The pad of his thumb slid back and forth over the softness of her lips. He loved her mouth, loved everything about her. “Kate.” He kissed her gently. Once. Twice. “How could you think I don’t know you? We’ve lived in the same town practically all our lives. I’ve watched you. I’ve listened to you. Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed of you?”

  “Dreams aren’t the same as reality, Matt,” Kate said sadly.

  Her gaze moved over his face, examining every inch of his features. Matt waited, holding his breath. He was rough and she was elegant. He was a man who protected the ones he loved. And he loved Kate Drake.

  “Matthew…” There was that catch in her voice again. Need. Caution.

  Matt couldn’t imagine why Kate would fear a relationship with him, a life with him, but the thought that she might pull away had him bending his head. His teeth tugged at her delicate ear. His tongue made a foray along the small shape. She shivered in reaction. He grew harder. Thicker. His body was heavy and painful, straining against the confines of his jeans. “Katie, unzip my jeans.” He breathed the words into her ear, his lips drifting lower to find her neck. Her soft, sensitive neck.

  Kate closed her eyes as his teeth nipped her chin, her throat, as his lips found her collarbone, his chin nudging aside the shirt collar again. She ached with wanting him, her body hot and sensitive. Her breasts felt swollen, begging for his attention. What was so wrong with reaching for something, just this one time? He was everything she’d ever wanted, yet was always out of her reach. Matthew Granite was a fighter, larger-than-life. He’d done things she would never comprehend, never experience. He felt like a hero from one of her novels, not quite real and too good to be true. She knew she’d thought of him when she’d written each and every one of her books. She’d used him as her role model because, to her, he was everything a man should be. Why would he ever choose to be with a woman who looked at life, wrote about life, but refused to participate in it?

  Kate was certain she was going to leap from the bed and run, but her body had a mind of its own. She was already working on the button at the waistband of his jeans, finding the zipper and dragging it down. The air left his lungs in a rush when her hand shaped the thick, heavy bulge, caressed and stroked with loving fingers. “You’re wearing too many clothes, Matthew,” she pointed out, determined to have her time with him, even if it couldn’t be forever.

  “So are you.” His hands dropped to the buttons of her shirt, sliding them open so that the edges gaped apart. He raised his upper body in order to stare down at her, to drink in the sight of Kate Drake in his bed. She shrugged out of the shirt and allowed it fall to the floor before lying back. His mouth went dry.

  Outside, the continual booming of the sea seemed to match the pounding of his heart. In the soft light, her skin was flawless, inviting. Her breasts were full and round, her nipples taut inviting peaks. Kate’s long hair spilled around the pillows, just as he’d always fantasized. For a moment he was caught and held by the sight of her, unable to believe she was real. “There was more than one night out in the desert when I was lying half-buried in the sand, surrounded by the enemy. It was important to get in and out without being seen. The enemy showed up and set up camp virtually on top of us. It was the fantasy of you lying just like this in my bed, waiting for me at home, that got me through it.”

  “Then I’m very glad, Matthew.” She tugged on the loop at the waistband of his jeans. “Get rid of those things.”

  He didn’t wait for a second invitation. “I’ve always loved you, Kate. Always.” She would never know how often he thought of her, in the hot arid desert and the freezing nights, in the painful sandstorms. Lying in a field with the enemy not ten feet from him. He had been all over the world, performing high-risk covert missions in places no American leader would ever admit to sending troops, and Kate had gone with him every single time.

  He stroked his hand down her leg, more to ensure she was real than for any other reason. He felt her shiver in response. Her lips parted slightly. Her sea-green eyes watched his every move. Matt knelt on the bed, tugging on her ankles, a silent command to open her legs. She complied, parting her thighs wide enough to allow him to slide between her legs.

  Matt was a big man. At once Kate felt vulnerable, the cool night air teasing the tiny curls at the juncti
on of her legs. His hands, sliding up her thighs, were gentle, removing her anxiety as fast as it rose. She loved the way he looked at her, almost worshiping her skin, her body, his hot gaze exploring in the same thorough way as his hands. A wave of heat rushed through her, of anticipation. Matt took his time caressing every curve along her slender leg, even the back of her knee as if memorizing the texture of every inch of her was terribly important.

  His touch sent darts of fire racing over her skin, penetrating every nerve ending until she could hardly lie still beneath his touch. Her breath was coming in a gasp, and heat coiled deep inside her, a terrible pressure beginning to build.

  Matt couldn’t contain himself another moment. She lay there like a beautiful offering. He bent over her, kissed her enticing navel, his tongue swirling in the small, sexy dip, his hands continuing their foray lower. He felt her reaction, a warm, moist welcoming against his palm as he pushed against her. He kissed his way up her smooth body to the underside of her breast. Kate gasped and arched her body, her hips moving restlessly. She flushed, her luminous skin taking on a faint peach-colored glow.

  He groaned. His body reacted with another swelling surge. Fire raced through his veins. His tongue flicked her nipple, once, twice, and his mouth settled over her breast. Kate cried out, her hands grasping handfuls of his hair, tugging him closer to her. She was magic. He could think of no other word to describe her. His body pressed into the softness of hers, while he lavished attention on her breasts. He’d dreamed of her skin, of the feel and shape of her every curve, and his imagination hadn’t come close to the real thing. He cupped her other breast, teasing her nipple, feeling the response in Kate. She was very sensitive to his touch, to his mouth, to every caressing stroke. And she showed him she loved his touch.

  Her soft moans heightened Matt’s pleasure. He hungered for the sounds and responses Kate showed him. He needed them. She was generous in her reception, her hands moving over him, her body restless with the same hunger. He flicked her nipple one more time with his tongue and took possession of her lips, swallowing her moan, robbing her of breath.